


No Sound of Water

by enemytosleep



Series: No Sound of Water 'verse [4]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Action, Drama, Fanart, Flashback, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-28
Updated: 2010-02-28
Packaged: 2017-10-15 01:52:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/155778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enemytosleep/pseuds/enemytosleep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the Yao clan's only hope for the throne, Ling decides it is time for action. Along with his most trusted retainers, he sets off on a dangerous journey through the Great Desert in search of immortality. But is this all he is searching for? When familial relations reach their breaking point, Ran Fan and her grandfather, Fuu, leave with their young master on his quest for greater power. But what else will they find along the way?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the 2009-2010 FMA Big Bang Challenge. This was the first story of this size I have ever attempted, and while it was definitely a challenge, I really enjoyed stretching my wings. I hope you enjoy it!

  


_You should not see the desert simply as some faraway place of little rain. There are many forms of thirst._  
\--William Langewiesche

  
His hair was on fire. It had to be. In fact, he was quite sure that he could hear the faint hiss of smoke as his hair slowly sizzled, not to mention the acrid stench that threatened to burn his nostrils. It wouldn't be long before he was completely bald on top of his head, like the head servant of the Yao palace, He Ping. It would be a terrible loss, for there had yet to be an emperor with such stunning hair as his own. Counter measures needed to be taken immediately. He released the reins of his mount, tucking them into the front of the saddle, then reached behind his head to the empty hood that hung over his shoulders. His hair was almost scorching, and nearly burned his fingers as he pulled the hood over. The weight of the fabric on his scalp was a little painful, as if the sun had already burned away the top layers of his skin. Perhaps it had, though he would keep that thought to himself.

He had originally waved off the old man's suggestion of covering up once they had crossed the borders of Xing, but now he had changed his mind. In fact, he was now very grateful for the hooded, white overcoat that Fuu had provided him. He already felt somewhat cooler beneath the light fabric. It was probably just as the old man had said, that keeping out of the sun's direct light would be best. His bare ankle brushed over his mount's side as he adjusted himself in the saddle. The horse was slick with sweat - and now so was his ankle. The still air did nothing to help it, and so the horse's sweat rolled down his foot and dripped away, a perfect waste of liquid. At least if there had been a small breeze they could have savored its cooling effects, but alas, the air was utterly still.

He patted the horse's neck and discovered that its mane was as scorchingly hot as his own dark hair. He imagined how uncomfortable the poor creature must be, and wished they had thought to bring light colored horses instead. They hadn't had much time for thinking, though. The sun beat down on them all from above, and then reflected its heat back up at them from below. At first the dry heat had been a welcome change from the heavy air that he was used to dealing with, but as the morning grew long, he had to admit it was a bit unbearable, perhaps even a bit hellish. The sun had scarcely begun its ascent that morning and Ling already knew that the heat would be entirely different than that with which he had grown up. Xing was a tropical land whose humidity was often more oppressive than its temperature, but the desert was different. While the moisture of Xing could choke you on its heaviest days, its effect was still less biting, far less brutal than this dry land.

Ling wondered idly where all the water had gone. Did it merely drain down through the cracked surface to some dark space underground, or maybe some god had taken offense to this place and simply denied it life's most basic needs? Or perhaps it was something darker still. Was the land condemned to suck itself dry, each drop trickling through so quickly that the trees and the very soil itself could not grab hold?

It had taken a few nights of hard travel to reach the edge of Xing. Their country was vast, and they were never so glad that their province was located in the western half, else their journey would have taken considerably longer. As it was, his seat was rather sore from being on horseback for so long, and his back was killing him. He had tried dismounting and walking a few times already, and while it felt good to stretch his legs and work out the kinks, it was very tiring, and they had a very long way to go still. He would have to endure the pain of the saddle for many days to come. How unfortunate.

But not everything was a loss. He had never seen anything like the desert; despite its brutality, he saw a great deal of beauty in it. The sloping dunes stretched out for miles, kissing the horizon. Cragged rocks and twisted cliff sides dotted the landscape, shaped by the very land itself and standing strong and proud. Each barbed plant that took root in the shallow soil blossomed and embraced the sun, waiting for the rain to come. He had never had such an appreciation for flowers before. He was so used to the opulent landscape of Xing, where beauty was found in lush detail, that he hardly took notice of it, really. Somehow, these tiny blossoms that dotted the starkness spoke to him in ways nature hadn't before. They were beautiful in their quiet strength.

"I'm actually quite glad that the old train line isn't running. It wouldn't be the same experience riding in a cabin-car, now would it?"

"I suppose not, young master, though it would undoubtedly be less strenuous."

The old man did have a point there; but still, there was something to be said for this adventure. He had never met anyone who had crossed the Great Desert, and he was rather proud to know that he would soon hold that title himself.

"Fuu, tell me, what do you know of the old railway line?"

"Well, master, it stopped running many years ago, long before either of you were born."

"And why is that?"

"They say the rails had become buried over by the desert sands."

"You say that as though you don't believe it."

"You don't get to be my age without learning to recognize an omen when you see one."

"And yet you agreed to accompany me here," Ling chuckled darkly. "What does that say about the state of affairs back home?"

"Nothing good, young master."

Indeed it didn't. There was a lot riding on this mission, and he certainly had his reservations about it, though he desperately hoped they were unfounded. The more recent attempts on his life had held an air of traitorousness, and he was sure it would only have been a matter of time before his entire court could not be trusted. He needed to find the answer to immortal life. His very life depended on it - but enough depressing thoughts for one day. The only thing he could do at present was worry about actually surviving the desert, and maybe finding some water. Some shade would be nice, too. "I wonder if we'll come across an oasis. I've heard stories of travelers who found paradise here."

"They are only stories, young master, a trick of the mind. The desert can bring a man to madness if he isn't careful."

Perhaps that was true. An idle mind left to itself would wander, and there was not much to think about in this empty land. It was best not to dwell on dark things.

******

  
For the longest time, when he had been but a small boy, Ling had truly believed that he would never stop being entertained by talks of the eunuchs. Perhaps with age he had grown to appreciate his impending manhood, and what it would mean to lose it, or perhaps he had merely tired of the same jokes. Whatever the case, he found this meeting to be extremely dull, and had been wishing for a swift end to it almost as soon as it had begun.

He was all of twelve years old now - old enough to be considered a man - but he certainly didn't feel like a grownup. To say that he was bored would be a gross understatement. He could hardly focus on the information being presented to him and the elder clan members. As he fiddled with the sleeves of his tunic, he vaguely recalled discussions of a new shrine - and eunuchs, they had definitely talked about eunuchs - and the preparations that they would need to make for the emperor's upcoming visit.

He supposed that had been when his mind had started wandering. At first, he had been excited by the idea of his father coming to this province. In all his years, Ling had never yet met the man. Of course his tutors had taught him all about his father's rise to power and all of the supposedly glorious things he had accomplished from the throne, but the knowledge was no replacement for all he had missed not having a real father around. It had been He Ping who'd comforted him after an attempted poisoning. It had been Fuu that delivered him to the harem for the first time. Even his grandfather, his own mother's father, was inaccessible and distant, and he lived on the same grounds. It wasn't fair. He hadn't asked to be born a prince, destined to fight for power against the other clans of Xing. He hadn't asked for any of this, though his father had asked it of him, and from an unreachable distance, no less. So why should he jump through hoops preparing the palace for the guy, especially when the visit wasn't even about him, his own son? It wasn't fair.

"Prince Ling..."

How anyone could expect him to make decisions about these types of things was beyond him. Maybe one day he would need to, but for now, why didn't they ask his grandfather? He knew a lot more about this. He drifted in and out of the conversation, nodding and agreeing when he felt he should.

In this way, the morning dragged on until finally something exciting happened. There was a commotion in the hall, an exchange of terse words, and then one of the head guards burst into the room unannounced. That definitely got Ling's attention.

"Headman Gen, a messenger from the Qiu clan has arrived. Shall I show him in?" The messenger addressed Ling's grandfather, elder head of the Yao clan. He bowed low and held his position, waiting for a response.

"The Qiu clan? What could they be after?" The headman questioned the council at large.

The adults were soon lost in themselves, trying to divine the messenger's purpose. Instead, why not just have him in? That would be the simplest way to find out what he had to say, wouldn't it? They were so engrossed in the conversation that no one seemed to notice the servants arriving with an early lunch. Ling smiled. It was the perfect opportunity to make his escape.

  


[ ](http://s189.photobucket.com/albums/z59/enemytosleep/?action=view&current=littlelingcolor.png)

  


  
_Lineart by[](http://bob-fish.livejournal.com/profile)[ **bob_fish**](http://bob-fish.livejournal.com/)/Color by [](http://enemytosleep.livejournal.com/profile)[**enemytosleep**](http://enemytosleep.livejournal.com/)_   
  


Silently, he slid from his seat cushion and fell into step behind a woman carrying a tray of soups. She glanced at him questioningly, and he gestured for her to remain quiet. Seeming to take the hint, she turned forward and began serving the bowls onto the low table. Meanwhile, Ling slipped between a pair of servant girls with empty trays on their way out of the room. He matched their stride and attempted to appear nonchalant as they made their exit. They were quite the sight if he did say so, and if anyone had bothered to look he would have been caught in an instant. The bright emerald of his tunic was embroidered with shimmering gold threads in an intricate design of fierce dragons, which couldn't have been more drastically different than the plain gray of the servants' robes. There was also the fact that he was already a head taller than the young women, even more so if you included the round tassel of his cap. It was a good thing the old men weren't paying any attention.

Once into the hallway, he ducked out from between them and took off on padded feet. He wasn't entirely sure where he wanted to go, only that it should be far, far away from the conference, as the conference was boring, and boring was simply no fun. He made it to the next hallway unnoticed, but soon was diving headlong behind a large, painted statue of a lion. There were guards at the entryway, numerous and with impressive armor, and Ling wasn't sure if they would let him leave or not. He was supposed to be in the meeting, after all.

"Young master, this way."

He was saved. Dressed from head to toe in the darkest of blacks - save for the hand painted mask that covered her face - Ran Fan perched on the balls of her feet on the delicate edge of the frame of one of the paper-covered panels that lined the halls. They were meant to let sunlight in rather than to be opened like windows; Ran Fan had apparently pried it open with her dagger, leaving shallow grooves in the frame.

Risking one last glance around the statue, Ling then moved back toward the newly made exit and squeezed his way out. The panels stretched from just above the floor toward the ceiling, so it was only a small step down to the ground. Once outside, he crouched low, trying to remain hidden. Ran Fan stepped out the window next, carefully lowering the panel back into place. Once it looked as it had before, she turned to him, her dark eyes seeking instruction.

"This way," he mouthed, pointing toward the north side of the building.

They crept through the palace grounds like shadows, ducking behind trees and pillars and crawling along the sides of buildings. They were headed for the Upper Garden, which would be empty at this time of day and was far away from the meeting. It was a perfect plot.

They arrived in the garden not long after they had started. In reality, it had only been a few short minutes since his initial escape, but the threat of being caught had made it feel much, much longer. It was like one of the stories his nursemaids had told him as a young boy: the young hero (Ling of course) would make a dangerous journey to escape the clutches of an evil overlord (he supposed that was his grandfather and the elder council) aided by a fierce warrior companion (this was clearly Ran Fan) in order for good to prevail. The good in this, obviously, was not having to sit through the rest of a tedious and boring discussion of which plants to place where and what color tapestries to hang in honor of the emperor.

Ling stretched his arms his over his head, feeling the weight of his troubles lift from him as he loosened up.

"Master, what do we do now?"

"We have fun!" he replied gleefully, somersaulting over a small azalea and losing his mandarin cap, but not caring. As soon as he landed, he immediately catapulted himself forward into a handspring, landing in a fighting stance and ready to spar. He loved being able to move around like this, open and free, and so unlike the way this tutors wanted him to be.

He waited for Ran Fan's attack. However, it didn't appear to be forthcoming. He was a little confused as to why she didn't respond to him now; they always sparred like this in the courtyard of her family's quarters.

  


[ ](http://s189.photobucket.com/albums/z59/enemytosleep/?action=view&current=NSoW1copy.png)

>  
Art by [](http://darkryan75.livejournal.com/profile)[**darkryan75**](http://darkryan75.livejournal.com/). See full comic at his [deviantART](http://darkryan75.deviantart.com/)  


Flicking his eyes over the expanse of the garden, he spotted her perched within a plum tree not far from him. He approached her slowly, keeping his eyes trained on the holes of her mask. She wouldn't make eye contact - she never did, really - and she fidgeted slightly as he drew closer. He didn't break his gaze as he sat at the base of the tree, folding his long legs beneath him. For a few moments they simply sat there in silence, Ran Fan refusing to look at him and he refusing to look away. Finally, he spoke.

"Ran Fan, why are you hiding in that tree? Don't you want to spar with me?"

"I am to protect young master from all threats. I am his deadly shadow. It is better to watch from on high."

"But wouldn't it be safer if you were right next to me?"

"I- I must maintain a position of stealth. This tree offers a perfect vantage point."

He grinned slyly. "So the tree has you held captive then? I see." He stood up and took a few casual steps away from the fragrant foliage, suddenly whirling around and facing the flower-laden branches with a mighty scowl. He addressed the flowers directly, "Which one of you is in charge?" When none of the white blossoms responded, he simply eyed the biggest and most forefront.

"You refuse to release my guard, do you?" Again, the flower said nothing, merely staring him in the face with its fat, yellow pistils. He withdrew his blade and decapitated the unfortunate blossom in a single, graceful swoop. Before it could reach the ground, he brought his sword back down in a low diagonal slice, cleanly cutting through the blossom head in mid-air. "Then negotiations are over."

Okay, so perhaps he was a bit old for these types of games, but the way they made her shift uncomfortably and flush was worth the embarrassment, he thought. Even with the mask there was no way for her to hide the heated blush that crept over her face when he pretended to defend her like this. The little glimpses of pale skin that peeked out from the bottom of her jaw were bright red. She refused to meet his gaze and tugged at the edges of her hood, as if she could disappear into its shadowy depths and escape the situation. It did wonders for his burgeoning male pride.

"And now you are free, Ran Fan. Come down from there and keep me company. I don't want to be bored."

She wouldn't be able to refuse a direct request like that, he mused, and indeed, she immediately began sliding her way down the branches. He knew from experience that she was more than capable of jumping from a perch like that, but he wouldn't torture her any more over it...not right now anyway.

"Ran Fan, watch this!"

  


[ ](http://s189.photobucket.com/albums/z59/enemytosleep/?action=view&current=fountain.png)

  


Art by [](http://potato-mouse.livejournal.com/profile)[**potato_mouse**](http://potato-mouse.livejournal.com/). See full size at her [deviantART](http://yoporock.deviantart.com/gallery/)  


He raced toward the large fountain at the garden's center. Sword still drawn, he leapt onto the edge, landing deftly. The low walls surrounding it were just wide enough to balance on, and were the perfect place to demonstrate just how agile he was. He began to slice through the air in liquid motions, which were the hard-won product of countless hours of practice. He lunged forward, balancing on one foot. His enemy would evade the open thrust and try to counter with one of his own, and so he drew back and sliced upward, taking advantage of the opening created by his invisible foe's move. Really, he was such a talented swordsman.

The edge of the fountain was slippery and narrow. As he battled on, he began to find himself feeling rather unusually unsteady. His feet felt disconnected from the rest of him. In fact, his whole body felt disconnected, as if he was simply floating in some air stream, passively moving along. When he felt himself sinking in that current, he finally realized what was happening. He remembered just how long it had been since his last meal. Of course that only served to make the feeling intensify; it was a vicious cycle.

He could hear Ran Fan calling to him, but the air stream was drowning out her words like a raging river. He saw her rushing over toward him from the corner of his eye briefly, then darkness started creeping into the edges of his vision, slowly blacking out everything in sight. The fountain water was cooler than he had thought it would be. He hoped he hadn't landed on his sword...

...and then he was sputtering, gasping for breath, coughing water out of his airway. Someone was leaning over him, crouching right in his lap and holding him up out of the water. Their small arms looped under his and around the backs of his shoulders, cradling his head in their hands. He was probably coughing in their face. He should probably stop doing that.

Slowly, he opened his eyes. He immediately regretted it; the glaring sunlight burned them, so he shut them once again. For some reason the sensation made him cough more, though he was at least aware enough of himself now to try and cover his mouth with his hands. He wasn't sure of his success, fumbling as his tingling limbs were, but at least he was trying now, right?

He tried to open his eyes again, and this time he was ready for the bright light that greeted him. Soon enough the expanse of white was blurred by a dark figure above him, unrecognizable and distorted. Then the dark mass solidified and became none other than his trusted guard, Ran Fan. He could see the worry in her eyes through the holes cut in her mask. Water dripped steadily from the edges of the painted lacquer onto his face.

"Master, are you all right?" She stifled a small cough, sucking air in through her nose, and he watched as the water droplets that clung to the edges of her mask holes were sucked in as well. She coughed slightly again as she tried to say more. It was then that he noticed that she, too, was soaked from head to foot. She really had dove in after him, hadn't she?

"Ran Fan, take off your mask."

"But why? Is Young Master hurt?" He could tell she was having a hard time breathing with all of the water that was dripping down and out of her mask. He also was aware of her unnatural attachment to the damned thing. He would have to do something about it.

"Ran Fan," he said sternly, reaching up and loosening the ties to her mask himself. She made to stop him, but stopped immediately when without her support, he started to fall back into the pool, not yet able to hold up his own weight. She was almost glaring at him as he finished untying the cords, letting the painted face slid off and tossing it into the water next to them. "Is it easier to breathe now?"

"Can Young Master sit up yet?"

Oh, she was so cold. He laughed as he began sitting up. He propped himself up slowly with his elbows, and then turned slightly to his side and used his arms to push the center of his weight over his hips. He was always a bit unsteady after collapsing; he would need to eat soon else he faint again. He wiped his forehead with his hand, pushing his wet hair back out of his face.

Ran Fan watched him closely for a moment before springing up and snatching her mask out of the water, apparently having deemed him fit. She shook it vigorously in an attempt to get all of the water out. She was absolutely glaring, her ferocity almost terrifying. He had nearly forgotten how expressive she was beneath that thing. She gave him once last gut-freezing, intense look before tying it back into place. He remembered now why it was a good thing she hid behind it. She was really scary sometimes.

She came back over to him and stooped low, offering her shoulder to him. He wrapped an arm over her shoulder, leaning heavily on her as they both stood up again. He was still quite dizzy, he discovered. He began wondering how exactly they would get back into the palace like this unnoticed. Collapsing was one thing, but returning soaking wet was another. It would be difficult to explain away. Princes and their guards didn't suddenly become drenched while sitting in a conference room, now did they?

He didn't have to worry about this for long, though. The garden was soon filled with shouts and a rush of bodies. He supposed his presence had been missed much sooner than he had anticipated.

He was greeted with a chorus of "Prince Ling, are you all right?" and "My Lord, what happened?" Servants buzzed around him, lifting him off Ran Fan and placing him onto the dreaded palanquin (why wouldn't they let him walk anywhere outside, anyway?). Immediately they were fussing over him, covering him with sheets and worrying aloud that he would catch a cold. He tried to wave them off, but they were persistent, insisting that he be brought back inside and dressed in dry clothes. There were palace guardsmen present, too. None of them seemed particularly happy to be there.

One of the guards approached Ling. He was marked with the royal blue crest of a captain. This could prove interesting; he hadn't done anything to merit the attention of a palace captain in quite a while.

The man bowed low, and then spoke, "Prince Ling, it is unwise to run around the grounds unattended. You really shouldn't go anywhere without proper protection. An attempt could have been made on your life, and we would have been none the wiser."

Was that a threat? It was a very interesting choice of words, wasn't it? He would have to remember this. "I am fine, really. It's only a little water. If I recall my history lessons correctly, there has yet to be an assassination involving the royal fountains. If my life were to be ended that way, I should be so lucky as to be the first."

"But Prince Ling, should something have happened-"

"Then it was fortunate that my guard had escorted me, was it not? Now, it is past time for luncheon, and I am famished. I shall be needing to change from these dripping clothes, else my mother might forbid me entrance to the dining hall. Excuse me." He waved to the litter bearers, who immediately began moving forward.

The rest of the day proved to be as uneventful as any other day. After his meal he had gone to the old scholars for a lesson in Xing's noble history, and after that he was brought to his grandfather in order for him to observe the everyday workings of the palace headman. It was boring, and like most of his duties, it seemed to drag on forever. He looked forward to his lessons in the courtyard the next day. Swordplay was always exciting, and he was getting rather good at it if he did say so. Then there were the dreaded language lessons in which he was forced to perfect far too many types of speech, some more awkward and uncomfortable than others (Drachman came to mind whenever he thought this). Soon enough it was dinner time, and then afterwards he had to practice calligraphy. More dull work, although the orange duck had been particularly delicious tonight.

After the servants had bathed and dressed him for bed, he simply retired to his chamber and laid down. Finally, the day was over. There was nothing remotely fun left for him to do, and the earlier he woke up, the earlier he could meet Fuu and Ran Fan in the courtyard.

Falling asleep proved to be difficult, however. He found himself lying awake for long stretches of time. It was during one of these quiet moments of reluctant wakefulness that Ling suddenly overheard his personal guardsmen having a whispered conversation from the doorway. This was interesting.

"Kun, try to conserve your energy tonight. I expect we will be picking up extra shifts over the next few days."

"Yes, father."

Ling had always been told to never to expect ivory in a dog's mouth, and Sheng was no exception to the saying. Sheng and Kun were part of another branch of his personal guard. They, Ran Fan, and Old Man Fuu were all members of the family that had served the royal members of the Yao clan for generations and generations. It was his experience with the man that Sheng hardly ever said anything good, and so it was quite obvious to Ling that there was another intended meaning lurking beneath his words. The fact that he was addressing his fellow guard about something seemingly trivial at such an inappropriate time led Ling to believe that the deeper meaning was, in fact, aimed at himself.

"You are disturbing my rest. If you have something to say, then say it."

"I am sorry, Young Master."

"Well? What is it?" He hated playing Sheng's games, but he had a bad feeling and wanted answers right now. He didn't want to take the chance that Sheng would say nothing, or tease him with the answer all night long. "Why will you be picking up extra shifts?"

"Well, I suspect poor Ran Fan will need a few days to, ah, let her punishment sink in."

"What punishment?" Ran Fan had been punished? For what? His heart ached at the thought of it; he had snuck into the eunuchs' medical building often enough to know what kinds of punishments were given on these grounds. Men and eunuchs alike would spend days in the infirmary recovering from the lashes they had received. Those bamboo rods were unforgiving.

"Well, for failing to protect you, of course. She allowed you to get into a dangerous situation without proper guard."

"She did nothing but uphold her duty. Either you are lying to me, or you are withholding something. Which is it? For what offense shall I have _you_ punished?"

"Please, Master, forgive me. It is difficult for me to say this in your presence. Surely you will understand once I've told you." The room was darkened, but the prince could practically hear the way the man smirked; he wasn't sorry at all. Obviously sensing that he was reaching the end of Ling's patience, the sly man continued. "Well, there have been rumors, Young Master, that she was partaking in inappropriate behavior, demeaning to her station."

His chest tightened at the statement. He tried his best to keep his breathing even, lest he betray his shock. Someone had seen them in the fountain, then?

"Lies. She did nothing of the sort, and I will see to it that she is not punished further for this. If there is any fault to be found here, it should be with me, not with her."

"I may be speaking out of line here, but I think it is important to remember that as prince, and one day emperor, your actions have consequences for others than yourself. Your decisions affect all of those around you."

"You _are_ speaking out of turn, and I will see to it that she receives no further punishments for my misdeeds."

"You could do that..."

"But what? Speak, Sheng, before I have you whipped as well."

"Forgive me, Master. It's only that I fear your intervening would only further damage her dignity. If she is a true warrior and guard to the royal heir, she will accept her judgement in stride. Would you rather save her the lashes, or save her remaining honor? I will leave you to decide, Young Lord."

  


[ ](http://s189.photobucket.com/albums/z59/enemytosleep/?action=view&current=punish.png)

  


Art by [](http://potato-mouse.livejournal.com/profile)[**potato_mouse**](http://potato-mouse.livejournal.com/). See full size at her [deviantART](http://yoporock.deviantart.com/gallery/)  


And that was it then, wasn't it? A question of honor and intent. Was his guilt worth her honor? Would she forgive him if he intervened? He knew how stubborn she could be. She might never forgive him for interfering with her situation. But could he forgive himself for putting her there? He didn't know. He would be sure to never put her in that kind of situation again, at least not until his honor was enough for them both.

"You can keep watch from outside, can you not?"

"Yes, Master."

The pair climbed out of his window, most likely to perch on the roof, and left Ling to his thoughts. It wasn't fair. He had slipped his guards to avoid dull work, and yet it was Ran Fan who had been landed on the receiving end of the whip. This bed, these pillows, they were so soft. Ran Fan certainly wouldn't be enjoying any comforts for a while. It wasn't fair - yet he knew that she wouldn't see it that way. She probably felt that she deserved it. Damn it. She probably wouldn't cry either, no matter how much pain she must undoubtedly be in and how humiliating it must be. He could only imagine the things Sheng must have said to her, judging from the bold words he had used with himself. It just wasn't _fair_!

Ling Yao, twelfth son of the emperor, royal heir to the throne, buried his face into the soft silk of his pillows and wept in silence for the girl he knew would not weep for herself.

  


******

Night had fallen, and with it the temperature. It was amazing how quickly and how drastically it had changed. They had decided to stop for the night: the horses were exhausted, and had been difficult to keep moving after they had found the small creek. They had put a great deal of distance between them and any assassins who had tried following after them. In fact, since they had been traveling with little rest for days, it was increasingly unlikely that any had come this far. Right now, it seemed Ling's fiercest opponent was the desert itself.

The sand was far too cold and solid for sleeping upon, Ling decided, as he lay huddled on the desert floor. They hadn't made a fire because they didn't want to draw attention to themselves. They had definitely been trailed for the first few days of their journey, and while they hadn't spotted or sensed anyone since entering into the desert, it was entirely possible that someone was still following after them using the cover of the dunes. However, as the last of his body heat seeped away into the greedy sand, he started to care less and less about being spotted. At least if they were found, they would have a fight and a fire to keep them warm.

He turned over once again, drawing the loose fabric of his overcoat tighter around him, trying to keep whatever modicum of warmth he could from escaping him. The desert night was much like the desert day: it took everything anyone had to give and sucked it down, looking for more. Earlier it had been the sun's mighty heat, and now it was the moon's silver chill. It was amazing what one land was capable of.

The horses had been tethered to a small outcropping of scraggly trees that grew out from the desert rocks. Fuu slept not far from them, wrapped in his own tunic, his gentle snores a soothing sound in the emptiness of the night. Ran Fan sat awake and on guard, her legs tucked beneath her in the polite way. She still wore her mask, even in the dark of the night. He kind of wished she would take it off. There was no way she could be comfortable like that for so long.

The sash at her waist hung over her folded thighs, spilling onto the ground. The white silk lay in a delicate swirl on the sand beside her, just a few feet away from him. Impulsively, he reached out for it. His fingers swept over the fabric, picking it up and letting it slip between them. The silk was smooth and flowed like water, and was as cool as the dirt it lay on. The way the moonlight created shadows in its folds was quite stunning. Ran Fan looked at him without turning her head, watching him carefully.

He continued absently playing with the sash. Neither of them broke the silence between them. It was almost comforting, this non-conversation. Ran Fan was never one for talking anyway, and he was too tired to say anything of value. Besides, he didn't want to ruin the moment by saying the wrong thing. It wasn't often they could be like this. There were always servants or messengers or palace guards interfering. Even the old man could suck the fun out of things. So he wanted to enjoy this for a little while longer.

"Do you think we'll find it, Master?"

"I hope so."

He closed his fist around her sash and curled into himself, trying to keep his thoughts away from dark things. He didn't want to spend the night thinking about what could go wrong.

"I really hope so, Ran Fan."

She shifted slightly, clenching her fingers against the tops of her thighs. "I hope so, too."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for the 2009-2010 FMA Big Bang Challenge.

_It is the desert’s grimness, its stillness and isolation, that  
bring us back to love. Here we discover ... that the desert of solitude can be the school where we learn to love others._  
\--Kathleen Norris

By the time she sensed its presence, it was already too late. Her horse screamed and reared up, nearly tossing her from its saddle. She could feel the animal tense beneath her, ready to bolt. She pulled back on the reins in an attempt to regain control. The gelding's nostrils flared as it pulled its lips back to bare its teeth. It pulled its chin in tight to the side. The whites of its eyes were fully exposed, clearly framing their black centers against the slick, dark coat of its face. The horse tried to toss her a second time - then it landed on shaky legs. The great beast stumbled, nearly falling over itself as it struggled to gain footing on the loose soil and crumbling rock.

There was a faint hiss somewhere in the rocky underbrush. Ran Fan drew a dagger from her sleeve. When the hiss sounded again, she tossed the blade quickly in a backhanded throw. There was a small thud as the dagger sank home, and then the quiet sputtering of a dying snake. Her dagger had cut through the creature's throat, pinning it to the dry earth below. The threat had been eliminated.

Her horse, however, did not understand this.

It continued its frenzied efforts to escape. White foam coated the animal's lips as it bellowed and circled backwards, tripping over the uneven ground and its own feet. She lifted herself off of the saddle, fully standing in its stirrups as she pulled back on the reins, talking in soothing tones as she tried to calm it. The animal stumbled again, and immediately reared up. She held on as best she could - but the horse was slick with sweat and the saddle was slipping, throwing her weight off balance.

Just as she was about to dismount before being thrown, the horse suddenly came down on all fours, hard. It sidestepped nervously, but stayed in one place. Master had come. He was now stroking her horse's cheek from the back of his own mount. He had her reins gently looped between his fingers as he ran the back of his hand over its face. In comparison to the death grip she'd held them in, it seemed so ridiculous, and so very _him_. He was always defying explanation like that.

Under the young master's touch, her horse settled quickly. Soon Ran Fan dismounted and joined her grandfather on the desert floor. Master stayed seated in his saddle, holding her horse's bridle and speaking quietly to it. Grandfather lifted the horse's rear foot up and behind to examine the wound there. The snake had sunk its fangs deep into the joint right above the animal's hoof, and already there was a good amount of swelling. That could not mean anything good.

"What can we do for it, Grandfather?"

He looked closely at the torn flesh before gingerly setting the leg down. "Not much, I'm afraid. I can clean the wound and wrap it, but there's no telling how the venom will affect the poor beast, or if we can keep it clean in all this sand."

She had to agree: it would be nearly impossible to keep the wound free of dirt. They spared some of their water canteen to flush out the bite, and then wrapped the leg in long strips of white fabric ripped from Fuu's overcoat. Fuu unloaded the injured horse's saddle and packed the extra supplies onto his own horse. With a leg injury, the animal would not be able to bear any added weight. They tethered it to Fuu's saddle, and Ran Fan prepared herself for a long hike.

Master, it seemed, had other plans.

"Ran Fan, come and ride with me."

He leaned down from his seat and held out an arm to her, clearly offering a boost. Was he mad? Not only was she his retainer, a lowly servant-guard with no right to do so, but she was a young woman. It would be improper, immodest. No, she could not do this. "It is no problem for me to walk, Master."

"I disagree. What use will you be to me if you are so worn and ragged that you cannot fight? Old Man Fuu is busy guarding both the injured horse and our supplies, so I will need your protection even more."

He was always dancing about with his words, weaving stories and making things fit to his needs. It was improper, it was foolish, and it was so _him_ that she couldn't help the small smile that reached her eyes.

"Then I will be sure to keep up to you as you ride."

"And what of the wishes of your prince? Surely those must count for something?" He was smiling that knowing smile of his, celebrating his victory before she had climbed aboard or consented.

Her blood boiled a little.

Master was awful sometimes in his insistence. If he wanted something, he always seemed to find a way to get it. She might have been more impressed with this if he wasn't royalty, but as it was, he was a son of the emperor, and therefore, likely to get his way regardless of what anyone around him wanted. She still had a chance to retain her decency, and she was determined to try.

"If I rode with you, I wouldn't be able to draw my weapon safely; and you could not access your sword."

He seemed to consider this for a moment, dropping his proffered hand and scratching his chin theatrically with the other. Then he said, "I still think it would be best if you rode with me."

"But Master-"

"You're supposed to guard me, right?" He reached forward again, holding his hand out to her.

It would be immodest to ride with him, for sure, but it would be even more improper to disobey his wishes, or to leave him open to attack as he was suggesting she would, as unlikely as it was this far into the wild. There was nothing for it, then.

"Yes, Master."

She grasped his forearm and he pulled her up. She settled into the saddle behind him, the hard wood of the rim forcing her right up against Ling's back. His body was warm and smelled of dirt and salt, and his long hair threatened to poke her through the gaps of her mask as he tilted his head. It was a tight fit in the saddle, but if she shifted her hips just so - she promptly stopped the movement and flushed appropriately. This was going to be a long journey.

They continued their trek through the late afternoon, hoping for the best but fearing the worst. They had not even reached Xerxes yet and they were already down a horse. She felt herself beginning to slide into dark and dangerous thoughts.

Of course it would have to be her horse that was bitten. She had been having a thoroughly miserable time of things already, suffering through the extreme temperatures and the biting wind, so it only made sense that just when she thought things couldn't get any worse, they did.

"The desert is a cruel place," she spat.

"Why do you say that, child?" asked her grandfather.

"It is a vicious land, tearing itself apart when it is hardly able to sustain itself in the first place. It's too cruel a fate: the gods despise it, and it despises itself."

Truly, she did not understand it. There were so few resources here, living would be hard enough in itself, but then added to that were the blistering heat of day, the arctic cold of night, and the wind so sharp that it cut everything into pieces. Even the rocky crags fought to remain intact, the blowing sand eroding them, twisting them into ghastly shapes.

"Ran Fan, the desert is teeming with life. Do not let your contempt for it blind you to what lies beneath."

She wanted to argue that it wasn't contempt, that there was a truth to her statement that even he could not deny, but instead she found herself holding her tongue as she had been trained to do for so long. A warrior like herself should not complain about her surroundings, her grandfather would tell her, she must learn to find the inner balance. Negative thoughts created negative _qi_ , and would taint her inner flow, potentially blinding her to what was happening.

"Close you eyes and focus your _qi_. Can you fee all of the life around you? All of the energy flowing through this land? The desert is alive, Ran Fan, just as much as our homeland. You couldn't feel it before because you didn't want to. It's why your horse was bit. You need to let go of this negative energy."

Obviously it was her fault that her horse was the one passing by as the serpent had struck. She had failed to sense the danger in time - and it wasn't the first time, either. Her grandfather was always quick to remind her of her past failures or to point out new ones. While some logical part of her knew that he did this for her own good, it never helped her to feel any less inadequate.

Even after all of her years of training, she still had trouble focusing herself sometimes. She had been nursing her own misery with irritation and impatience, and had let it consume her, blinding her to the world around her. Maybe there was a part of her that didn't want to see this place as anything like her homeland. This place looked dead, smelled dead, or rather smelled like nothing at all: there were no sweet plum blossoms on the breeze or even the pungent odors of crushed skunk cabbage underfoot. All she could smell was her own sweat, and that of her master as he leaned back into her.

They rode in silence for a while. Ran Fan brewed in her own thoughts as her master steered onward.

******

In the small courtyard of her family's living space, she had listened to the birds sing as she relaxed her mind. Their voices were sweet and uplifting, and they helped her reach the reflective state that grandfather wished her to obtain. Sometimes it was hard to clear her thoughts, but focusing on the birds always helped her.

"Control your breathing, Ran Fan. Let the natural flow guide you."

Her breaths were deep and even, sure and carefully measured. In through her nose, and out through her mouth, her stomach muscles steadily contracting with each pull of air. She could feel her blood rise upward every time her lungs filled, swelling her head and lifting her shoulders. She held onto that feeling for a moment before releasing it, letting her blood flow downward and out, the heat of it flowing into her limbs.

She could feel her _qi_ flowing through her similarly, rising and falling like a warm tide. It pulsed within her as if it had its own heartbeat. Maybe it did - she never could quite understand her grandfather's explanations. What she did know was that each living thing had its own _qi_ , its own lifespirit. Even the earth itself had its own flow of _qi_ , and according to the elders, if one centered themselves properly, they could feel not only their own _qi_ , but those of others as well. Ran Fan was not very good at this yet. She could tap into her own flow, but the flow of others remained outside of her grasp. Grandfather said it was because she was too focused on other things to feel. He said she had to push those thoughts aside if she ever hoped to accomplish this, this something that came so naturally to others, like the young master who'd felt others' _qi_ before he even knew what it was. This is why grandfather made her meditate like this. She couldn't say it was unbearable, and in fact it could be very relaxing, but it had yet to wield any results. She was feeling pretty relaxed today though. Perhaps she'd finally attain some enlightenment and master this task?

She took another deep breath, and let it burn in her lungs before pushing it back out. She was relaxed, she was open. She was tapped into the flow of her own lifepower. All that was left was for this block of hers to lift so that she could move on in her training. Her _qi_ flowed quietly as a gentle breeze blew over her, carrying the birds' song with it.

"So when do we get to practice with swords?" It was Master Ling. Of course. He interrupted her steady flow, abruptly as always. Her whole body tensed. Suddenly, she was no longer concentrating on the lifestream around her, but instead thinking of ways to knock his feet out from under him in their upcoming sparring session.

Her grandfather answered mildly. "Young master, there is much more to martial arts than swords and fighting. We must train ourselves, both inside and out. We must control not only our hands and eyes, but also our hearts, our minds, and our spirits. It is from these that we draw the strength to fight."

"Yes, but this is the boring part." He was using that wheedling tone he seemed to think was appealing.

"For a boy your age, I suppose it is, but it is important to focus nonetheless."

Ran Fan opened her eyes and looked over at her charge. He sat with his legs crossed over one another just as she was, but instead of holding his meditation stance, he had his elbows on his knees with his chin rested in his hands. He was pouting. They were nearly the same age, all of ten years old, but as her family had a duty to protect the royal members of the Yao clan, she was in fact responsible for him. Of course, this duty wasn't hers alone. Her grandfather and her uncle watched over him, too. There was also her cousin, Kun, who was just a few years older than she.

Her father had once helped to guard the young prince, before he had met his death. Her father's passing was the reason she had shouldered this duty normally reserved for the men of her line. When she was only four years old, her father had died protecting their young master from a group of hired swords. She had no brothers - or sisters even. Soon afterwards, her grandfather had decided to begin teaching her the ancient martial arts. From that day on, she had trained in the small studio of their living quarters.

Master Ling sighed and corrected his posture. Before he closed his eyes, he winked at her before closing his eyes. Ran Fan could not help the smile that crept over her features. She supposed she was lucky to be wearing her mask, or he would he notice. Young master was always doing inappropriate things that made it hard to follow orders. She was supposed to be meditating and concentrating on her _qi_ , not laughing inwardly at his impatience (or being embarrassed her desire to laugh, she admitted guiltily).

It was highly unusual for a royal heir to train with his guards. In fact, her grandfather had said that Master Ling might actually be the first heir of the Yao clan to do so. He hadn't always trained with them, but after one particularly brutal attempt on his life, the young prince had insisted upon it. Her uncle still protested this even now, over a year after the fact, but grandfather continued their joint sessions anyway.

Ran Fan took another deep breath in through her nose and sampled the fragrant garden air tainted with the odor of lacquer. It was more difficult to breathe with the mask in place, which was exactly why she needed to practice while wearing it. All the guardsman wore them while they were on duty. Grandfather said it was because they were but deadly shadows in the prince's wake, swords without a name. There was no need for anyone to ever see their faces. However, in her case, there was a second reason for the mask. While she wasn't the first woman of Xing to be trained in the ancient arts, she was one of the very few. It would not do to display any points of weakness to her opponent. The mask was her shield, her defense against the enemy. Like any shield, it could be cumbersome and difficult to bear, but she would persevere.

She understood this as well as any young girl could. Some things were black and white and easy to internalize, but there were many more things in varying shades of gray, their subtleties lost on her forming mind. Grandfather was patient, though, and she had hope that one day, maybe she would understand everything he tried to teach her. She would not stop trying until that day.

The rest of their meditation passed by quietly. Master Ling had eventually slipped into a quiet state of mind, which made it easier for all of them to concentrate properly. When grandfather deemed them finished for the day, the young master left for his chambers along with Uncle Sheng and Kun.

Ran Fan followed her grandfather back into the living area of their accommodations. It was like a much smaller, far more plain version of the palace quarters: lots of wax-paper window panes and sliding doors leading through seemingly senseless hallways. She could never understand why there were so many hallways. At least there weren't any of those garish tapestries or ornaments all over the place. She found them almost obnoxious in their grandeur, and terribly distracting. More than once already, she'd been scolded for tracing the scales of the dragon tapestry in the council room.

Grandfather slid open the door to their quarters, and they quickly found her mother busy at work in the kitchen. She was a small woman; at ten, Ran Fan was already nearly as tall as her mother. She wasn't cooking, but was preparing to fill more grenades for them. She had empty shells laid out over the table, and was currently measuring out parts of the first powder to be added. It was a delicate process that required lots of patience and a careful hand. Ran Fan sorely wished they had meditated for much longer than they had.

When her mother heard them enter, she smiled and kissed Ran Fan on the top of her head. "You can take your mask off now, dear. I'll need your help with these."

Ran Fan nodded and untied the mask, then made her way to her sleeping quarters to deposit it there. She'd learned the hard way that the papier måché was fairly brittle despite the many coats of lacquer, so she didn't want it to get knocked over accidentally again. As she went to step back through her bedroom doorway, she heard her grandfather and Uncle Sheng arguing. They were always arguing, it seemed. Wasn't Sheng supposed to be with the master? She stopped short and pressed herself to the wall of her bedroom, curious to see what they were fighting about this time.

"The joke has gone on long enough, father. It's been a full year now. It has to stop."

"It is no joke. She is progressing very well. In fact, I daresay she is faring better than you did at her age."

"Rubbish. You see progress where you want to. Your grief for Anming was great, and so we sat quiet and allowed you this distraction, but it's time now to move on. Kun is nearly of marrying age, and there will be more of our line to carry on our duty. You have a strong grandson, you should be focusing your knowledge on him."

"As you have said, Kun is nearly of marrying age. A young man like him needs less of an old man like me and more of his father."

"Father, this has to end. It is an embarrassment to our family ... have you learned nothing from Anming's demise?"

"How dare you! If I have learned anything from Anming's death, it is that I cannot count on a single son to carry out our duty, for even the strongest heir can be cut down. You wish me to place all of our family's trust and duty in the hands of a single boy? No ... no..."

"Father-"

"Enough. I will hear no more of this. She will train as her fathers before her have trained, and she will serve the royal heir as they have."

She was startled at her mother's touch on her shoulder, but immediately settled and followed her back into the kitchen. Her mother seemed sad, as she often did when grandfather and uncle argued. She could tell her mother worried about her every time she left for duty, far more so than she did for Kun or for grandfather.

Her mother directed her to the seating cushions and handed her a filled grenade for plugging. She took up a wick from the table and placed it in the small hole, plugging the rest of the space with heavy wax, which she dripped from a fat bar.

"Mama."

"Yes, child?"

"I'm sorry."

"What for, dear?"

"I'm sorry that I cause you and grandfather so much worry. Grandfather deals with Sheng, I see your worry when I leave-"

"Oh, Ran Fan." She slid her arms around Ran Fan's shoulders and pulled her in close, wrapping her arms around her daughter tightly and resting her cheek on the top of her head. "Ran Fan, you are a strong young woman. Please don't listen to what your uncle says. He doesn't know what he's saying."

As her mother squeezed her tighter and wept quietly into her hair, Ran Fan couldn't help but wonder if things would have been different if she had been a boy.

******

She awoke with a start. There was something dark, cold. She jumped up from her spot on the cool earth, swinging her head around to find the source of her sudden waking.

Her horse had gone down in the night.

The beast lay flat on its side in the crisp early morning light, moaning under its breath as it slowly crushed itself under its own weight. Her grandfather and the young master were already hovering over the animal, trying to calm its thrashing legs. Even though it was kicking, she could see the green pus oozing from the wound on its leg. The bite had swollen overnight, the flesh surrounding the punctures bruised and dying.

Ling noticed her presence and filled her in. "It must have lay down sometime after dark. There's no telling how long it's been like this, but we haven't been able to get it up."

"I fear there is only one thing left to do now," Fuu said gravely.

He looked to Ran Fan, and all she could do was nod dumbly. She was never particularly fond of horses, but her heart hung heavily nonetheless. It was a pity they would be losing such a valuable resource so soon into their journey, and from her carelessness too. The poison and the infection would only continue to spread, and the horse would only continue to suffer until it met its end. It would be far less cruel this way, though it still made her feel guilty.

Grandfather saved her the trouble of putting her horse down. One clean slice to the throat, and the moaning stopped. Dark blood poured from the wound as the animal choked on the chill morning air and its own fluids. After a few minutes, it finally lay at rest.

For a few long moments, the three of them stood there and watched the body as it lay there on the craggy ground, its blood already thickening over the dusty rocks. It was oddly quiet then. The desert always seemed silent, but this moment felt strangely so. Then the flies were buzzing over the carcass, the sounds of their beating wings ringing in her ears. She looked over to her grandfather. He was now laying out one of the supply sacs and packing its contents into its brothers. Ah yes, their morning dose of desert gruesomeness was not yet over.

It would be a waste not to salvage some of the animal's resources, so Fuu, with some help from both the master and herself, carved some of the more desirable meat. Then they cooked it over the dying campfire to better preserve it for their travels. They took as much as they could carry, leaving the rest to the wild.

The remaining two mounts were then packed and ready to continue hiking. Fuu climbed onto his mount and Master Ling onto his. Once again he reached down to her, offering his hand. She took it at his first offer this time, climbing up behind him and settling into the small space of the saddle rim.

As they set off, she wondered about whether her honor as a guardsman was worth this torment. There would always be a wall between them. She'd seen him flirt with the harem, had seen him work his charms on the other nobles. Besides, it wasn't as if she actually thought about him that way. At least, not any more so than any other girl would when in his presence. His attentions to her were nothing special, not for him anyway. If she weren't his guard, she'd just be another servant falling prey to his whims and charming wit. At least this way she could keep closer to him, be special to him.

Ling wriggled in the saddle, pushing his hips back and twisting his shoulders. She had no room to avoid it, and once again found herself pressed against him in a way that, had they been at the palace, would earn her a meeting with the tail end of a bamboo rod. He turned to look at her over his shoulder, and smiled as if he knew this enticed her. She gave him a hard look in response, but deep down she knew he was right.

He was always throwing himself out there for her to catch.

[](http://s189.photobucket.com/albums/z59/enemytosleep/?action=view&current=NoSoundofWater.png)  
Art by . See full size at her [deviantART](http://yoporock.deviantart.com/gallery/)


	3. No Sound of Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the Yao clan's only hope for the throne, Ling decides it is time for action. Along with his most trusted retainers, he sets off on a dangerous journey through the Great Desert in search of immortality. But is this all he is searching for? When familial relations reach their breaking point, Ran Fan and her grandfather, Fuu, leave with their young master on his quest for greater power. But what else will they find along the way?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for the 2009-2010 FMA Big Bang Challenge.

_They defended the grains of sand in the desert to the last drop of their blood_  
\--Gamal Addel Nasser

So, this was all that left of the great Xerxean empire, was it? It must have been a truly astonishing place at its peak, for even now, centuries after its mysterious downfall, it was best described in a single word: breathtaking.

They had dismounted under the welcome shade of a looming row of columns. There was a small fountain there lined with rainwater. The horses required no persuasion to drink. Ling sat on the edge of the shallow pool and dipped his hands into the stagnant water, cupping his palms and bringing some of the cool liquid up to splash over his face. It felt good to wash off some of the grime and sweat that had accumulated there, though it was such a tease that he almost wished he hadn't; he _really_ missed being clean, he'd decided. Traveling for days, baking in his own sweat and in the flying dust left him unbearably itchy - what was worse, he could barely stand his own smell. He couldn't see how Ran Fan and Fuu weren't complaining, dressed as they were. He wondered whether they had hot springs in Amestris? Or maybe bathhouses with pretty attendants? He'd trade his horse to be in the scented baths of his private quarters, being scrubbed down by a handful of select servants right now.

Fuu washed his face in the pool as well, but Ran Fan did little more than remove her mask and stand beneath a fractured pillar. He was sorely tempted to splash her, but that would require moving, and frankly he was far too tired for anything like that. They had been riding for hours today, since before the sun had fully risen. After a full three days' travel, they had finally reached the first destination in their journey.

They sat and rested for a short while, none of them talking, simply sitting and taking in their surroundings. Soon enough, though, Fuu cleared his throat and stood. "Young Master..."

He was right, Ling thought, they really ought to get moving. "Let's get going. We've got a lot to explore before nightfall."

Fuu tied off the horses while Ling stood and stretched. He raised his arms above his head, laced his fingers and bent forward at the waist deeply, then backwards. Ran Fan carefully looked away and began tying her mask behind her head. When everyone was ready, Ling led the way into the ruins.

As far as Ling could tell, all of Xerxes had been composed of impossibly large, stone structures. Most, it seemed, had been reduced to nothing more than crumpled walls and broken foundations, but even these were gargantuan and awe-inspiring. Beams of sun filtered through the misshapen ruins, casting light and shadows in a rather picturesque way. The centuries-old craftsmanship, worn from rain and desert sand, still held an incredible amount of detail. It must have been beyond words when it was whole.

They traveled deeper within the fallen city, pausing every now and again for a closer look at an embossed wall or cornerstone. It was coming to Ling's attention that perhaps it might have been wise to have brought a rentanjutsu user with them: none of them had a clue what they were looking for here. This lack of foresight only slightly disturbed Ling. It was a miscalculation, but not a grave one. It simply meant that they now had to transcribe each and every batch of foreign symbols they came upon in the hope that at least some might contain the knowledge they sought. It didn't sound like very much fun in his head, but Ling always seemed to manage one way or the other.

While scouring the crumbling ruins was certainly a tedious job, it was far from boring. There was something about the ruined stone that was unquestionably majestic. The sheer immensity of the pieces, the intricate detailing of the relief sculptures full of things like fire and raging waters, the vastness of the city itself, it all struck Ling powerfully and almost constantly as they wandered the empty, sand-washed streets. No, Ling was quite sure that he would never again find a place so powerfully moving as this.

The sun shone bright and hot in beams filtered by dust and column. Their quiet footsteps seemed to ring through the stone; otherwise, the silence in the ruined city was almost absolute. It was ethereal and surreal, an experience in which one could very easily lose oneself. Actually, Ling had already done so more than once, earning a sharp noise from Fuu each time that he did. He was only slightly annoyed at the interruptions: they _were_ here for a reason, a very important reason, and it wouldn't do to waste precious time dawdling. Still, Ling felt like even if he had come here without this sense of urgency plaguing him that he would never have enough time to take in what was left of this once great civilization.

Moreover, Fuu's chivvying to keep moving wasn't the only thing that was bothering Ling. They were being watched. They had been, in fact, from the moment they had stepped foot within the ruins. Their watchers had made no moves against them yet. However, their numbers had been increasing as the morning grew long, and it was only a matter of time before they would strike. Too bad for their opponents that any element of surprise had been betrayed by their ominous _qi_.

Suddenly, the old street opened up into some sort of pavilion or courtyard. Across the stretch of dirt and straggled weeds lay a wide set of steps, leading up onto a platform that had once been covered over. Pillars that supported nothing reached high into the morning air. On the far back wall, what was left standing anyway, was part of a huge relief sculpture carved into the stonework. It was hard to tell what it was originally at this point. There were circles - were they depictions of the sun? the smaller ones looked like moons - connecting together to form larger ones, all centered around some type of lion. There was a lot of script carved into the spaces between the inner circles, lines and lines of flowing symbols grouped into chunks of unreadable text.

"Ran Fan, do you see this?"

"Yes Master," she replied dutifully, her dark eyes narrowing as she concentrated on the broken wall. Fuu had snuck up the stairs behind Ling, already copying over the mural to the parchment he carried.

"Amazing," Ling said quietly as he approached the wall. After the initial shock of the strangeness of this lost culture, he had begun to recognise fragments of the influence Xerxian art must have had on the sculpture and painting of his own country. However, these strange, intricate, almost abstract designs were so different from any style of art with which he was familiar, and Ling's cultural education had been thorough. It was really very fascinating. He wished he had studied more of this culture back at home, though he'd be kidding himself if he thought that any book or scroll could accurately portray the grandeur of it all. He raised his hand to touch the bottom part of the mural - but instead of fingering the engraving, he snatched his sword handle and spun quickly.

A dagger bounced off the flat of his blade with a loud clang, and then Ling lunged forward, bringing the sharp curve up to his attacker's throat. Ling was tall for his age, but his opponent still towered over him and was more heavily built with darkly tanned skin and ruby colored eyes. The man flicked those eyes to Ling's left. Ling pressed his blade further, then glanced over to the side. Ran Fan and Fuu were back to back, kunai drawn and surrounded on all sides by more of these dark-skinned men.

There were too many of them to count like this, but there were at least a dozen of them present. There were more in waiting too, he could feel them, just beyond the cover of the outer wall. People like this were particularly troublesome to deal with: they were foreign, their goals were unknown, and they were willing to fight dirty. A dozen plus to three was hardly fair, though it could prove interesting. There was always the chance that Ling and his followers could talk their way out of this. They hadn't stolen anything, didn't have anything worth stealing, and weren't looking to cross swords with anyone.

Ling only had a few seconds more to decide what they should do before their attackers chose for them. He locked eyes with Ran Fan, then Fuu.

He nodded. It was game time.

******

"I will wait for you here, Master."

"Are you sure?"

He counted himself lucky that the daggers she tossed his way were metaphorical. He gave her what he hoped was an appropriately quizzical look, and when that didn't work, he tried tilting his head to the side a bit. That usually did the - nope, not today. He still didn't understand why she always got so upset whenever he invited her in. He didn't always come here to do what people thought he might; sometimes he just liked the company.

Ling shrugged his shoulders and stepped past her to enter his harem quarters. He never pushed her to come here with him, but as it was, she followed him everywhere. He left her at the entrance with her grandfather as he always did. Behind the sliding doors was a long, narrow hall. There were no windows or murals to decorate the walls, though he knew this was only because the girls' private quarters resided on the other side of each wall. He looked back at the now closed doors and saw a rather angry silhouette, its back turned to him and its arms crossed over its chest. Well, he supposed it was difficult to know if her back was truly turned or not, but he figured it was likely, given her mood. He sighed and continued onward.

It was very unorthodox for a man to enter into these quarters, but then Ling was never one for convention. Sometimes he summoned girls to his quarters, as was the usual custom, but he enjoyed the change of atmosphere too much not to come here, too. Once out of the corridor, the front hall had a high ceiling that was brightly colored and trimmed in gold. The walls were covered in equally bright tapestries, many stretching up to reach the ceiling itself. The doorways leading off of the main room were covered with many layers of sheer curtains and strings of colored beads. It was warm and cheerful looking, so different from most other parts of the palace. It was one of the many things he enjoyed about coming to this place.

"Prince Ling is here!" Lei shouted. She was a young girl, very pretty, with large eyes that always seemed to sparkle. She had a lovely singing voice, and would serenade him whenever she could.

Ling sat down upon the cushions of the main room and waited for the rest of the girls to make their appearance while Lei disappeared into one of the side rooms. He'd been collecting girls since the age of ten, when his grandfather had gifted him with his first group. It was a royal's prerogative to collect a healthy number of consorts, his grandfather had said. It was one of the few pieces of advice he had ever given Ling that had not been solely about politics. It had been another two years before he officially began seeking out the company of the girls, though. Unlike the servant girls of the palace, the harem were educated much like himself. Since they could be called upon to go out in public and act the role of royal wife, they needed all the tools to play the part. He found he quite enjoyed their company because of this.

In no time at all, Lei had returned with Chu Hua and Yin in tow. There was usually a lot of excitement when he first arrived, with lots of fawning and unintelligible chatter; when they all talked really fast, it was hard to make out the words sometimes. The girls had all come from different parts of the country, and some of their dialects were so different from the High Xingese Ling spoke that they almost seemed like a foreign language. The girls did not disappoint this time either, soon surrounding him on the floor with their touches and animated voices.

"I did not expect you today!" Chu Hua exclaimed. "Usually you come here after your Drachman lessons."

For reasons unexplained, Chu Hua had quite the knack for foreign languages, and he often sought her help in his studies. "That is tomorrow, and you can expect me again, then. Today, I thought I might come and share a snack with you all."

"We love your visits, Young Lord," Yin said as she placed a jar of wine on the small table next to the cushions. She was already pouring it out and serving it to him without having to be asked. He took the cup and sniffed - mostly out of habit - and then sank it. It was delightfully sweet, but with a bit of a powerful aftertaste. This was best dealt with by having another cup, which he soon did. Then he asked them, "Are there any peaches today? I would love some peaches if I could." Yin hurriedly popped up from her seat and scurried off, whispering instructions to the servants for peaches. Once the servant girls were dashing off on their own, she came back over and rejoined Ling and the others. He could feel her small weight settle itself behind him on the pillows, her knees gently bumping against his lower back. She brought her hands up his back and over his shoulders, squeezing them before running her fingers up his neck and into his hair. She soon was untying it.

"Are we getting frisky so soon? You can't keep from touching me, now can you?"

"No," she confessed, "I suppose I cannot." And then she was parting his hair and running her fingers through it as she prepared to weave the inevitable small plaits she loved to braid into it. He actually didn't mind this so much. He loved the feel of fingernails against his scalp and delicate fingers sliding through his hair. Luckily, the girls seemed to enjoy playing with his hair quite a lot. Or maybe not so luckily, as he was sometimes forced to wear rather interesting styles while he visited. At least it gave the servants something to talk about.

It wasn't long before the peaches were brought out and set down beside the wine. Chu Hua picked up a slice between her tapered fingers and held it out to his lips, holding back the bulk of her sleeve with her other hand. He playfully took the peach, just barely touching his lips to her fingers, then darted his tongue out to lick the juice from his lips.

"So very sweet," he said. The girls giggled, and Chu Hua fed him another slice. It was cool and sharply sweet, and its juices dripped from her small fingertips and onto his lips. He grabbed hold of her hand to suck on her fingers, only letting go when she laughed and swatted at him as he licked more of her hand than was necessary.

"These are quite fresh." Ling remarked. "Are they from our own garden?"

"I believe they are, yes," she replied. She blushed as she smiled, then grabbed another slice to feed him.

He sucked down the next slice of peach teasingly. Lei scooted closer to him and wrapped her small hands around his upper arm, as if trying to win his attention. It worked. He smiled at her, then asked, "Anything new or interesting since my last visit?"

"Oh, have you not been told? We have three new girls this week, my Lord. And they are beautiful! One of them is teaching me a new dance," Lei paused and pulled back a bit to look him in the eye. "Would you like to see it?"

"New girls? I didn't hear. Where from?"

"From one of the eastern provinces. I believe the Chang clan sent them as a favor to your grandfather for his aid in council the other month."

Hm, strange that he didn't keep them for himself. "I see. Show me this new dance then."

She smiled and stood from her seat. Lei moved to stand in front of him, then bowed and began counting her movements. She shuffled her feet slowly, gracefully twisting her wrists and making pretty shapes with her fingers. She swooped her arm down low, trailing the sleeve in a showy performance. Then, a few moments later, she balked, pausing and freezing in place. "Oh. I guess I've forgotten how the rest goes." She flushed brightly and then bowed low. "I will practice for you."

"It was beautiful."

"You lie," Yin said, laughing as she poked him in the back. "You are full of trouble, Young Lord."

"People always say that about me. I wish I knew why." He was smirking as he said this.

They all laughed, and Chu Hua continued to fed him more of the peaches, while Yin continued to make a spectacle out of his hair. He wondered briefly if she had brought pins out to tie it up - she'd done it before - or if he was lucky enough to get away with untied braids for now. Lei sat back down and poured him more wine, finishing off the last of the jar. If he wasn't careful, he'd end up a bit fuzzy and get himself in trouble at dinner - although getting in trouble was apparently his specialty.

Chu Hua fed him the rest of the peaches, and when the plate was empty, a small eunuch appeared to collect it. He didn't recognize the boy, though he never really paid much attention of the servants; there were just too many to remember.

"So what now, Prince Ling?" Lei asked.

"We relax until someone realizes where I am and summons me," he announced. This elicited a round of giggles from the girls, which reverberated loudly off the high ceiling. He never noticed how strong the echoes in this room were until just now. Then again, it was never normally this quiet in here. Where were all the other girls?

"Is it only you three here today? Where is everyone else?"

Yin jabbed him again from behind. "Are we not sufficient company?" He'd had her for so long now, she was often far less proper than she probably should have been. Somehow, this didn't bother Ling at all.

"That's not what I said. It's just really quiet in here today is all."

"You know, now that you mention it, it is sort of empty," Chu Hua supplied. "They took a bunch of the girls for lessons today. I'm not sure where the rest have disappeared to."

"I heard someone mention they were cleaning the baths today, and were bringing anyone wishing to bathe up to the main baths instead. They don't normally do that, do they?" asked Lei.

No, they usually didn't. Things weren't adding up, and besides, something just _felt_ off. He'd been feeling it all day. It was why he had skipped out on his history lesson and come here instead.

"Is everything all right, my Lord?" Lei asked sweetly, touching his cheek.

He snapped back to attention and took her fingertips in his own, bringing them to his lips for a gentle kiss. "Yes, I'm fine." She didn't seem convinced, so he gave her a reassuring smile.

Another eunuch, this one much older than the first boy, entered the room and delivered another wine jar. He did not recognize this servant either. There were rather too many odd occurrences today to be ignored. Ever since his father's declining health had become common knowledge, the atmosphere at the Yao clan palace had become steadily more suspicious, its energy murkier. Or perhaps it was all paranoia? Still, Ling certainly had reason enough for paranoia. He'd never have made it to fifteen without a healthy dose of it.

"I did not call for more wine."

"I'm sorry, Prince Ling," he replied, bowing, but he did not take it away. Instead, he turned away from Ling and made to leave the room.

"I did not call for more wine," Ling repeated, sternly. "Take it back."

The eunuch stopped short and seemed to tense a little, then he turned back around and bowed to Ling again. "Yes, of course. I am sorry, my Lord." He began approaching Ling again.

Ling tensed.

The eunuch froze. He flicked his eyes to the doorway behind him.

Ling sprang.

He leapt up from the pillows, drawing his sword and striking in the same movement. The eunuch pulled his own blade from the folds of his robes, and stepped forward to meet Ling's thrust. The loud clanging of the clashing blades and the girls' screams reverberated high in the empty hall. He pushed against his opponent's blade, then pulled back and cut in toward his middle. He could feel the fabric of the man's robes rip, though he'd missed his mark.

He heard the beads from the girls' rooms clink, and from the corner of his eye he spotted the movement of several dark shapes. It was hard to keep track of all their auras in a place so heavily clouded in malice and deceit. It was as if half the palace were not to be trusted. He blocked a downward cut from the first man, then spun on the ball of his foot and kicked his feet out from under him. He quickly sliced the man's throat, then spun to block an attack from yet another man dressed as a eunuch. There was no question now that these were not true servants, but spies who had somehow found their way into the palace.

"Run, get out of here!" he shouted at the girls. They had frozen in a far corner, eyes wide, clutching each other.

There were eight, no, ten attackers. He held the other man's machete at bay, but the rest of them were closing in, one of them swinging a deadly whipchain and wearing a wicked grin. He wouldn't wear it for long though. Ling heard the keening whistle of a tossed flash grenade and promptly spun back out of machete man's reach to cover his face.

The bomb went off soon after.

Even behind closed eyes, he could see the hot, white flash of light. It faded as soon as it had flashed, and then he straightened and advanced on the nearest spy. Ran Fan and Fuu took up their own men. The flash bomb had caught the attackers off guard, and a few were dazed enough to be dispatched with little effort. A man with hookswords volunteered to be Ling's next victim, stepping up and crossing his blades together. Ling had yet to master hookswords. There were so many cutting different cutting edges on them that it was difficult to keep from hurting himself. They were not for the faint of heart. That didn't mean Ling couldn't defeat him though. The man then flicked his wrist and hooked the curved tops of his weapons together. _Shit_.

Ling palmed the flat of his own blade and held it out to deflect the bladed handle as his opponent used the combined length of the two swords as a sort of whip. The man swung his entire arm up and over his head and then back down, circling himself with the connected blades and pressing closer to Ling.

The man threw his arm forward again. Ling gripped his sword handle with both hands to bat the blades back, lunging straight into him. His attacker pulled his swords back and took up the second handle, separating the blades and blocking Ling's attack. This was not going to be easy. Ling advanced again, but was easily blocked. He nearly lost some of his sleeve when the man struck with his left blade. Ling pulled back and started circling, trying to figure out the best angle to approach him from. He glanced around the room quickly to asses any advantages he might be able to take. Ah, yes. This would be good.

Ling went in again, his sword level in front of him. The man hooked the curve of his swords over Ling's blade, and Ling raised his sword up and pressed in, locking them together as they stared each other down, foreheads nearly touching.

"Give it up, boy," the attacker spat.

"You're going down," Ling said quietly, smiling. Ran Fan's small hand snaked in above the spy's arms, slitting his throat with her kunai as she pulled it back out. The spy hadn't seen it coming. As he went down, drowning in his own blood, a look of surprise was frozen on his face.

Ling and Ran Fan looked at each other for the briefest of moments, and then they were back into the fray. The guy with the whipchain ran at Ran Fan, and she neatly sprang back out of the way and prepared to take him on. Fuu was busy battling against two of the the spies, trying to protect the girls still trapped in the corner of the room. The remaining two spies were quick to take Ling on.

Each of the pair was armed with long swords much like Ling's own. As they came at him, Ling moved fast, blocking blows and evading others. He risked a glance over at the girls. It looked like Fuu had taken out one of his opponents and was facing off against the other one-on-one now. Ling hoped the girls wouldn't try anything stupid and get themselves hurt. He deflected another strike and then glanced over at Ran Fan. She was slowly being backed into the wall, her small daggers not giving her the reach she needed to get in on her attacker. When her foot touched the wall, the guy spun the spiked chain at her. She grabbed at one of the flag poles and yanked it down, then ducked as the chain smashed against the wall.

Ling leapt over to her and severed the top part of the pole with his sword, then charged back at his attackers head on. Hopefully, she'd be able to properly defend herself with the makeshift staff. The two men battling Ling moved in. They backed him up against the wall. He fended them off as best he could, but with two of them it was difficult to get a slice in and get the advantage. Then one of the men groaned and sank to his knees: there was a kunai buried in the back of his neck. Ling promptly finished him with a slash to the throat and went at the other spy. Now that he was on his own, he didn't prove much of a challenge, and soon Ling spilled the man's guts over the chamber floor.

Ran Fan was still fending off the guy with the chain, doing her best with the chopped pole and one dagger. Ling reached down and plucked her other blade from the dead man's neck, then threw it, hard, at her opponent. It sank itself deep into his side as it caught him when his arm was raised. He dropped the chain and clutched at the wound. Ran Fan moved in and ended him, just as Fuu took out the last of the attackers.

Ling met eyes with Ran Fan, then raced across the room to Fuu and the girls.

"Is everyone all right?"

There were nods and verbalized reassurances from everyone present. He leaned down to pat Lei's hair. "You three need to get out of here. Go to the baths. Go anywhere. Tell no one what you saw here."

"But Prince-"

"Go. I don't want to see any of you get hurt."

Lei was crying, but Yin and Chu Hua nodded, hard-faced. They carefully picked Lei up off of the floor and guided her out.

Ling looked to Fuu. "How did they get so far in? And they were dressed as official servants, no less. Something isn't right."

"No. Sheng is supposed to inspect and approve every new arrival to the palace. I don't know how he missed this. Unless-"

"Yes, that's what I feared. It won't be long before there is no one in this province whom I can trust." There had been whispered rumors the last few weeks that were very worrying to Ling; it seemed there were those who did not think he was ready to take the throne, and that with the failure of his claim, their clan's influence would decline. These rumors even went so far as to suggest that it might be more fruitful for the Yao clan to seek alliances outside their own clan, perhaps with a more powerful candidate for the throne. Despite the fact that he was sworn to protect Ling before all else, Sheng always seemed to think of himself first. Ling wouldn't be the least bit surprised if Sheng were involved in some plot to remove Ling from the running.

"You can trust me, Master." Ran Fan said seriously.

"I know," he replied. "Which is why I'm going to tell you both this: there's something I've been thinking about for a while now, ever since my father has grown ill. If I have any hope of winning the throne, I will need an edge of some sort. I've been doing lots of reading with my tutors lately. About the history of Xing and the origins of rentanjetsu. There were many mentions of 'The Golden Being,' the SAge of the West." He pounded his fist into his other palm. "I think I need to leave Xing and look for this perfect being, this immortal life, if I have any hope in succeeding my father."

"But how will immortal life help you win the throne?" Fuu asked. "Won't the current emperor use it to keep his power forever?"

"Well, that's why I need to leave Xing: the emperor has been having all of Xing's top rentanjetsu users working on this for quite some time. I need to find it before anyone else does." Ling paused and stroked his chin, getting lost in his own thoughts. His background knowledge of rentanjetsu was rather rudimentary, but he did know that it seemed to originate from the ancient civilization of Xerxes. Maybe there would be some clues there? And if not there, what about Amestris? Amestris was fast becoming known for its military prowess and its devastating use of alchemy in the battlefield. Maybe the Amestrians knew something the masters of Xing didn't?

He looked back to Fuu and Ran Fan. "I've been planning this for some time, but now it seems I'll need to expedite my trip. If I stay here, these attacks will keep coming, and it will only be a matter of time before one of them succeeds."

Ran Fan looked as if she were about to say something. Ling waited for a moment, but she remained silent.

"Young Master, are you sure you want to do this?" Fuu asked carefully.

"If I fail in this task, if I fail in taking the throne, there's no telling how far our clan will fall. Yes, we have been a fortunate province, but that has only made us more of a target for others to aim at. I can't let the fate of our people fall into the hands of someone else. I have to do this."

The both looked at him intently, but their gaze did not waver. He needed them to realize how serious he was about this. "What I'm asking you goes far above and beyond your duty to me. In fact," Ling swallowed hard, "I officially release you of your duty to me. You are no longer bound to me, and are making this decision of your own free will. If you come with me, you could be executed as traitors upon your return - assuming we all even make it back home. What I am setting out to do is very risky, but it's something I _have_ to do. You are free to choose for yourselves, whether you will follow me into the unknown or whether you will stay and protect yourselves and your family." This was turning out to be quite the speech. He was almost impressed with himself.

"I am with you, Master." Fuu crossed his fist over his chest to lay over his heart as he dropped to one knee, bowing his head.

"As am I," Ran Fan added, mirroring Fuu's actions.

Neither of them hesitated at all to consider, as if there was ever only one option. He felt some of the tension he'd been holding dissipate. He'd been nervous they might do the intelligent thing and take the way out he'd offered, and he was very relieved to know that they would follow him out of Xing - but he needed them to be _certain_. He didn't want them to regret this later. "Are you sure? You'll be leaving everything behind: your family, your home. There is the chance that you will never come back. There is a chance you will be killed if you do. I want to be sure you've thought of all this."

"Don't be foolish. When have we ever given you cause for doubt? Besides, you can't refuse to eat just because there is a chance of choking." Fuu smirked.

Ling smiled. "I suppose that's true."

Ran Fan stayed kneeling, but looked up to meet Ling's gaze. Her answer was plain to see.

"Let's not waste any time in leaving, then," Ling said. "We don't know how many more of them there are."

******

 _Kumis_ was an interesting drink, Ling decided. Good, but - well, _interesting_.

He took another sip and then passed the bowl to his left, letting the liquid fizzle over his tongue for a moment as he tried to assess the taste. He'd never had anything quite like it before. When he first had seen it, he'd expected it to taste something like _takju_ , which was sweet and milky. This was sour, though, and thicker than he'd thought it be, but not nearly as thick as the rice wine. There was a sort of bite at the end, which he assumed was the alcohol. When he'd asked about the bowl, the Ishbalan elder had informed him that it was fermented mare's milk, which made sense: fermented things often tasted a bit sour.

He watched the bowl as it left Ran Fan's hands. She handed it off to Fuu, her face contorted into some strange grimace. Obviously the taste didn't suit her, and the poor thing was exerting quite a bit of energy into schooling her face. Her dark eyes flicked back and forth between Ling and the Ishbalan woman who had served him. He was almost sorry he'd made Ran Fan remove the mask and drink with them, but not quite. He would remember this face for a long time to come. Fuu took his share and passed it on without remark. He was far more used to these sorts of things. Ling counted the rest of the men in the circle and hoped there would be enough left for a second serving. He would really like a second taste.

His hopes were dashed, however, when the bowl finished its journey around the circle and landed back in the hands of the elder woman. She tipped the remaining drink back into the leather pouch she'd poured it from, and then sat down with the rest of them. It was time for business now. That kind of stunk: after a few days in the desert, Ling really didn't feel like negotiating at all.

[](http://s189.photobucket.com/albums/z59/enemytosleep/?action=view&current=Inxerxes.png)  
Art by . See full size at her [deviantART](http://yoporock.deviantart.com/gallery/)

Within the circle sat eight Ishbalan men of varying ages, all of them older than Ling. Along with the men sat Ling and his two guards, and the elder of the group, the sagged faced, old woman whose wispy hair was pulled back into some kind of bun. It was she who had stopped the fight earlier, and it was she who spoke first, in strangely accented but clear Amestrian.

"What is it that you seek within the great ruins?"

Straight to the point. He rather liked that. Perhaps this talk wouldn't be as draining as he'd thought. "The rentanjetsu of our country is said to have been brought from the West," Ling answered. "I am searching for immortality, and was hoping to find some clues within the ruins." It was exciting to be finally putting all those language lessons to use. It made him feel rather intrepid. Besides, he always enjoyed speaking Amestrian: the consonants had been horrible to learn, but were fun to roll over the tongue now that he had the knack.

"Ren-tan-jet-su? Is that alchemy?" she asked, stumbling over the unfamiliar word.

"Yes, I believe that is what they call it in Amestris. I wish to learn more about their _alchemy_ so that I may obtain the power I need to take the throne."

She scowled, pulling her dried lips back and scrunching her brow, creasing it even more. Then she said, "We Ishbalans know nothing of alchemy, except that it can be deadly and that it goes against God's will."

"I confess I don't know anything about Amestrian alchemy, but in our country, it works by channeling the _life-stream_ of the Earth. It flows through all of us, and anyone who trains properly can read that flow. Or so I've been told, anyway." He grinned sheepishly and tucked one hand behind his head. "I never was very good at those studies."

"And it is just as well that you weren't," she chastened. The men of the group mumbled to one another under their breath, but quickly stopped short at a look from the woman. "We cannot help you with your task, young Prince. You will have to leave with only the knowledge with which you came here."

He could tell that she was nervous. Once learning that he and his guards were not Amestrian, the Ishbalans had been more receptive to them, but not overly welcoming. It was easy to see they wanted them out of here. He didn't have much time to try and find his answers.

"But if alchemy goes against God, then why did He create the energy flow? Why did He give us the ability to use it?" Ling remembered enough of his studies to show proper reverence to another culture's deity.

This seemed to have the opposite effect Ling was going for. The men seemed very agitated, one even going so far as to stand up and brandish a fist, though he was quickly subdued by his brethren. The old woman laughed darkly. "God does not create evil. Evil exists like the empty space at the center of a ring: the ring cannot exist without the empty space within it, as good cannot exist without evil. It is our duty to choose the good and live as God intends us to."

As soon as he opened his mouth again, he could tell his mouth was running ahead of his mind. "But one man's good be another man's sin. Alchemy is a revered and noble practice in my land. It heals the people, saves lives."

"And you look to use it to gain power, do you not?"

Ah, she was good. "Without that power, my clan would become susceptible to attack by the reigning clan. I do it to protect my people."

"And how would you protect your people with that power? By attacking your brethren clan in kind?" She shook her head, then stood up from the circle and gave him a dark look. "You have a good heart, but I can sense a want in you that is both dark and dangerous. I offer you this: humans who are so greedy to covet God's power forsake his grace. You would do well to abandon this search of yours, young Prince."

So that was it, then. It was plain to see she was done with conversation - not that she had ever seemed that eager to talk with them in the first place. Ling sighed and glanced at Fuu, who shrugged his shoulders slightly and looked over at the clan elder. Ling turned to watch her as she made to stand, two of the Ishbalan men aiding her. He figured it was safe to stand now that she had done, though he kind of wanted to stay sitting. He hadn't noticed how tired he was while they were exploring, but after stopping and resting for a bit, he was finding it had all caught up with him. In fact, he was feeling a little light-headed. Or was that the _kumis_?

"Master, do we leave now?" Ran Fan whispered next to him.

That was a good question. They hadn't found anything obviously helpful, though they had transcribed quite a lot of text and symbol. The Ishbalans didn't seem overtly threatening, but he wasn't sure how far their hospitality would stretch. He doubted they'd be permitted to wander the ruins more. It was probably best if they left now before trouble started. He nodded to her and stood up, brushing the debris from his pants.

Their hosts were watching them carefully - very carefully. A pair of young boys came walking up with their horses in tow. From quick observation, it appeared that their supply sacks were untouched, though it would be impossible to know for sure without actually opening them up and checking. There wasn't much to steal in there aside from horse meat, some dried rations and a few sleeping blankets, though in a place like this Ling supposed anything was fair game and a valuable find. He, Ran Fan, and Fuu made a habit of carrying most of their weapons arsenal on their person, so if it came to that, they could at least drop a flash bomb or two and make an escape.

"Your have very fine horses," one of the younger men stated.

"Yes, thank you." Ling hoped there wouldn't be another scrap: he was far too tired, and he'd hate to scare off the horses. He had no intention of walking the rest of the way to Amestris.

"They are _very_ fine horses," another Ishbalan supplied.

"Indeed they are. Maybe we could come to some sort of arrangement, then?"

The desert men seemed very interested in whatever he had to say. Ling hoped he could manage something decent.

 

******

He'd never actually ridden a camel before. Of course he'd seen them, though none quite like this. These only had a single hump and stood nearly twice as tall on thin, spindly legs. The camels in Xing were quite popular among herders, and there were plenty of herding villages within his province. He had to wonder about the practicality of using camels around sheep and goats, though. These guys looked to be a little on the slow side for herding. In fact, they didn't seem particularly driven to do much more than gracefully lurch along at a leisurely pace. And did they ever lurch. He was actually starting to feel a little nauseous actually. It wasn't entirely pleasant, this near-constant sensation of being about to tip over off his precarious perch on the saddle. He was surprised to discover that he actually missed the horses. Still, he couldn't deny that picking up the camels had its benefits. Not only would they be able to travel longer and with fewer stops, but they now had a guided tour of the Great Desert, not to mention the help they would be provided in entering Amestris surreptitiously. Having left Xing in such a haste and in such secrecy, they had not secured proper travel documents, and would, in fact, be entering the country illegally. At least they would be harder to track without the papers, and far less likely to get caught at the border: the Ishbalans had been running supplies to the desert for months and knew all the ins and outs of Amestrian border patrol. All of this had been bought with the two horses, which they would have had to sell anyway once in the country. Desert nomads always really valued a good horse.

Ling was starting to feel pretty good about things - and then, abruptly, the whole world rushed out from under him and he was toppling forward - again.

"You lean too far forward," one of their guides informed him from the saddle of his own mount. "When he feels you on his neck, he'll kneel. Try to sit further back." It was one of the younger men who had come up beside him. His light hair was short and tied back from his face, much like Fuu's. He could not have been much older than Ling himself, maybe twenty at the most. He had a kind face and a gentle smile. It was a good look on him, especially given how hard and cross the others appeared - nobody smiled here, and their features just seemed so dark and strange.

The young man laid his own camel down and dismounted, then walked over to the young bull Ling was riding - if you could call this riding - and took hold of its bridle.

Ling was about to thank him for the help, when instead of raising the camel, the young man glanced around them at the rest of the caravan as they continued past, some laughing openly at Ling's difficulties. When he seemed happy that no one was paying them any mind, he spoke to Ling in a whisper while he pretended to adjust the camel's gear. "I was listening to you at the council. I don't know anything about alchemy myself - I doubt any Ishbalan will - however, I do know something that might help you in your quest."

Really? This was interesting. This trip was becoming more and more mysterious by the minute. "And what might that be?"

"Well, there are rumors of a really powerful alchemist in Dublith. So once you're across the border, you'll want to head south and check that out, I imagine."

"Why are you telling me this?"

The young man looked taken aback for a moment, then he shrugged and said, "It's kind of exciting. What you're doing, I mean. I'll never get the chance to do half of what you've done. It feels nice to know that I might have helped you along in your journey."

He seemed honest enough, but Ling couldn't take the young man's advice blindly. They'd have to do some investigating of their own as soon as they could. Still, that was rather kind of him. Ling clapped his palms together and bowed slightly. "Thank you."

"Don't worry about it. Hold on," he warned, and at the very same instant, he raised Ling's camel up. Ling clutched the saddle as the animal unfurled its back legs first, tipping him so he was practically facing the ground. Then it unfolded its front legs and leveled out. This did not do much to help the state of his stomach juices, but he smiled and waved to the Ishbalan man to assure him all was well.

Seemingly satisfied with Ling's situation, the young man remounted his own camel and raised it up. He glanced behind Ling, and then winked at him before toeing his mount to prod it moving forward. Ling took back what he had thought about camels only knowing how to amble: this kid had his galloping full tilt. The animal bleated as he charged up behind one of the other young riders, just narrowly avoiding the other camel before cutting in front of it and then taking off again. The other Ishbalan, obviously a friend or a brother, shouted and laughed, and then took off after him. They were soon told off by the rest of the caravan: their outburst was upsetting some of the other camels. Then they rejoined the group, laughing behind their hands and tossing false insults at each other.

The way the two young men interacted fascinated him. The trust and the kinship shared between them was plain to see. For a moment, Ling found himself longing for something similar. Being who he was, Ling didn't really have any friends to speak of - not the kind normal kids would have, anyway. True, he had companionship in both his harem and in his tutors, but none of them were on the same path as him. They couldn't relate to him the way those young men could relate to each other.

Ling glanced over his shoulder and spotted Ran Fan as she ambled up beside him on her own beast. She had her mask tucked behind her head and was making a rather strange face as she brought her camel up next to Ling's. They'd been through a lot together, hadn't they? Training, assassination attempts, adventures in escaping the council: she knew more about him than almost anyone else did. Maybe he did have a friend after all? He was still amazed at how easily she had given up everything to follow him on this mission, this dangerous quest that could so easily turn sour. That shouldn't have been a light decision for her, but she'd made it seem so. Surely that had to mean something?

"How are you enjoying the change in mount?" he asked her. She gave him a most unhappy look. "At least now you have a full saddle to yourself?" The face she gave him then implied that she would rather have been back in the cramped horse saddle. "I'm having a tough time of things too. They are very different than what we're used to."

"Yes, they are."

"Young Master!" Fuu called from up front. He had stopped his camel and was waiting for Ling to catch up to the rest of them.

Ling waved and pressed his toes against the camel's shoulder, and was delighted to find he managed to successfully get it started on the first try. Ran Fan mirrored his movements and followed at his side. He could tell she wasn't terribly fond of riding like this, for so long and on unfamiliar beasts, but he was glad that she was willing to bear with it.

He knew Fuu followed not only because he was Ling's retainer: as head of his line, he had his family's honor to defend. Against his own son, no less, who was more interested in power than anything else. Ran Fan, though - she had come solely for him. It was sort of humbling, but also a little sad to know that she thought so little of herself and so much of him. He knew he owed her far more than he could ever really repay. He could try, though.

"Ran Fan."

"Yes, Master?"

"Thank you. For everything." He turned to look at her. To _really_ look at her. "I know it can't have been easy coming all this way for me, but I want you to know that I'm glad that you did." He wanted power to protect his people. He wanted power to gain the throne. He wanted her to be there beside him. He needed her here, no, he _wanted_ her here with him. She'd always held a unique place in his life, and he didn't want to lose that just yet. Maybe there was such a thing as wanting too much?

"It is my duty."

"You could have stayed behind, but you didn't." He brought his right hand to his left shoulder, brushing his fingers along the sleeve of his jacket as he brought it up, then bent forward in a deep bow. He'd only ever bowed formally like this once before in his life, when his father had come to his palace. He was almost surprised with himself, but it seemed right. "Thank you," he said, facing downward.

She didn't respond. When he looked back up at her, she had stiffened her posture, and was just watching him silently with those round, dark eyes of hers, scrutinizing him. Did she not believe him? For once, he was actually being serious. He was going to tell her this, but then he found himself biting his lip and bowing his head again instead.

Finally, she said something.

"You're welcome, Master."


End file.
